650!!!

This was absolutely the wrong day for rain. This was a big, multi-transportational chase - my biggest this year - and it was raining. I was not feeling at all confident while eating my (surprisingly delicious!) Huevos Rancheros in Rockland. (Check out Home Kitchen Cafe!) Gerri and I had driven 4 hours from Cambridge to be here in time for the ferry. The ferry would take us to Vinalhaven, an island off the coast of Maine. From there, we'd be taking another, smaller boat a further hour or so to our final destination: Seal Island. And there, finally, we hoped to see the rare Red-billed Tropicbird. 

The weather wasn't on our side. But we did have one lucky charm up our sleeves - John Drury - the "Tropicbird Man." He'd been taking people out to Seal Island for the past 7 years - ever since this tropical bird - nick-named Tropi - had taken up annual summer residence here - thousands of miles north of where it should have been. The man had an almost tangible bond with the bird and we were hoping that John could work his magic today.

The ferry ride was smooth with lots of Black Guillemots in breeding plumage to keep us busy with our binoculars. An hour and a half later the ferry disgorged us into the tiny fishing town of Vinalhaven. Brightly-colored skiffs bobbed in the harbor, lobster pots crowded the quiet streets, and we felt the cool summer breeze on our sweating brows. The rain had stopped.

Vinalhaven, Maine

Amid the clapboard New England Cape houses, there's a refreshing French influence to the architecture - including where we were staying - the Payne Homestead. 

If this was Nantucket at this time of year, it would be crowded and obnoxious. But this is rural Maine at its best. No TV in the hotel (except the "TV room" which has no cable, but a VCR machine (!) with a bookcase of video *cassettes*) or internet. But plenty of friendly hospitality.

John Drury was waiting for us in his new boat, Skua. He's a tall, quiet man, who espouses shoes, small talk and knows these islands like the back of his hands. Stepping aboard, John coaxed the boat gently out of the harbor…

John Drury at the helm of Skua.

It felt almost appropriate that we were flying the Welsh flag - only one country away from my birthplace, and home to my best friend back home, Jon.

It's about an hour out to Seal Island. On our way we saw Common Eider mothers forming communal rafts, shielding the chicks hidden in the center. A new urgency to this protection has been the recent and dramatic increase in summering Bald Eagles. We saw up to 12 birds. Eider and Cormorant (including several pairs of breeding Great Cormorant) chicks provide regular and bite-size snacks for the Eagles.

After missing the Man of the Mountain in New Hampshire (the face in the rocks that fell down in 2003) we were happy to see an alternative in Maine…

Can you see the famous film director? 

Appropriately, he's among the birds (the one bird here is a Bald Eagle.)

As we reached Seal Island, we were greeted by the irresistibly-cute Atlantic Puffin. 

Atlantic Puffin. 

During spring, the bill increases in size and color which may play a part in mate selection.

As well as a pair of Long-tailed Duck in rare breeding plumage, and Common Loon…

Common Loon.

and the breeding colony of Arctic Terns:

Arctic Tern - notice the very short legs, and bright red bill.

i.e. - everything but the Tropicbird! The delightful Puffins had quelled my nerves for a while, but now they were back. Where was Tropi? There had been one sighting this year back in May. Could this be the final year of the Tropicbird? John circled the island hoping a different view would help. While we were searching we had a pair of breeding-plumaged Common Murres:

A pair of Common Murres.

Unusual this far south at this time of…."Tropicbird!" The scream comes from behind. Gerri's shouting and I almost fall out the boat in surprise! As I wheel around to see why the hell she's shouting a huge bright white bird with an impossibly long tail and blood red bill glides silently past…

I shout out too, and soon we're all shouting "Tropicbird!" Well, everyone except for the yogically calm John, who's nodding, and ready at the helm to follow the bird. After strafing a few terns the bird lands amid a group of Common Loons. We approach close enough to admire the bird:

For the next 15 mins we watch as Tropi takes off and flies among the terns. Despite its huge size, it's a surprisingly graceful flier. John explains that when the bird first arrived it wanted to roost among the terns. Must be pretty lonely being the only Tropicbird in town But the terns were having none of it, and kept chasing it away. In return, Tropi started strafing the terns and generally annoying the hell out of them. This game has gone on for 7 years, and we witnessed some of these playful interactions:

This has been one of the my most amazing birding experiences - such an enigmatic bird, and a really fun trip out to see it. I was happy to share it with Gerri - who's celebrating her birthday this week (Monday.)

Thank you Mr Tropicbird Man! Contact details for John Drury if you're interested in an awesome afternoon out in coastal Maine: 207-596-1841.

So - it's June 23rd and I've seen an amazing 650 birds! I started this year having no idea I'd be doing this. A January trip to Arizona was just a winter break from the (relatively) birdless Massachusetts. It wasn't really until March / April that the audacious thought first entered my mind: this is pretty good start - maybe I could do a Big Year? Back then, a Big Year would have been 550. As the months and birds have rolled by, I've been upping my targets - 600, 625, 650. And now I have a good chance to get into the 700s. John Vanderpoel, who saw an incredible 745 birds during his 2011 big year was at 654 by the end of June (his 650th bird - coming on June 26th.)

Anyway, back to reality. A good night's sleep on Vinalhaven (there's no return ferry after 4:30 so we're stuck on the island) and then back to Boston.

Happy Birthday Gerri! Hope you enjoyed the Tropicbird and Puffins!

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BIG YEAR LIST: 650

NEW YEAR BIRDS (2): Atlantic Puffin, Red-billed Tropicbird.

SPRUCED UP IN VERMONT

This is the kind of birding I like - you arrive at your destination, and there's a sign warning you that your target bird is in the area. With photos! *And* telling other people not to shoot it!

Certainly a lot more welcoming than New Hampshire, through which Gerri and I have just driven. The state motto "Live Free or Die" sounds relatively lame compared to this welcoming sign...

I'm at Moose Bog in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont - less than 30 minutes from the Canadian border. I'm here to work on my grouse. This is an annoying group of birds - largely because they're so unpredictable and darn difficult to find when you're looking for them. Depending on the species the strategy can involve driving slowly for miles around mountains, woodlands, or fields. Or doing all that on foot. Although the habitats are different, the one constant with all grouse seems to be doing the above as early in the day as possible. Which, of course, means getting up really early.

Even though it's "only" 3.5 hours from home - I didn't like the prospect of a 2:30 am start, so we stayed in a cheap motel in NH. I've found there's an inverse correlation between the cost of accommodation and the number of hand-made signs (and often the grammar and overall legibility.) This was a cheap place...

So - throwing domestic objects in there is ok?...The owners didn't seem to appreciate the made-in-America TV that I tossed in as we were leaving. Guess that's Living Free in New Hampshire!

Moose Bog is home to the Spruce Grouse, an endangered bird in Vermont. It's a boreal species, and round here this is about as far south as they range. A short (3/4 mile) and very narrow trail winds through dense spruce forest, softly carpeted with moss.

At this time of year, the delicate Lady's Slippers are blooming...

The grouse walk through this area slowly and silently. Your best bet for spotting them is to do the same. At the start of the trail a tiny Winter Wren belted out its tinkly song. Blue-headed Vireos chatted, and Blackburnian Warblers squeeked out their incredibly high-pitched song. We scanned the forest floor for movement - but nothing. I'd already mentally prepared myself for making this trip at least 3 times, figuring our chances were about 30%. Guessing that we'd miss the grouse the first time, I was treating this as a scouting trip.

As we moved towards the end of the trail, I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye. Something was walking behind a pile of logs. We waited and then a black-necked head popped up. Spruce Grouse! I couldn't believe our luck! It was very tame, and didn't seem to concern itself with our presence.

Um..we can still see you!

Spruce Grouse male. Notice the black chin and red eye-combs. 

Action shot!

We watched the bird for 15 minutes, before it slowly walked out of sight. It was a magical morning in a beautiful part of the country. Thank you Liz Southworth for suggesting I try Moose Bog.

So - I'm feeling better about grouse than I'd have thought at this point of the year: I've seen all three Ptarmigan, Spruce Grouse, Ruffed Grouse, Dusky Grouse, Gray Partridge, Prairie Chickens and both Sage-Grouse. But I still have some tough ones left: Sooty Grouse (West Coast), Sharp-tailed Grouse (mid-west) and Chukar (???) Oh - and I'm debating whether to go for the ridiculous Himalayan Snowcock - an introduced bird found only at the top of the Ruby Mountains of Nevada. That's the place that offers helicopter rides to go see them!

We stopped for coffee on the way back in North Woodstock, which has some pretty interesting bathroom decoration...

Looks like the guy on the right 

really did have a gun in his pocket and wasn't just pleased to see us...

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BIG YEAR LIST: 648

NEW YEAR BIRDS (1): Spruce Grouse

MASSACHUSETTS - THE STATE THAT KEEPS ON GIVING...

Thank you Dan Brown for keeping me awake on the drive back from Philly, and to Enterprise for giving me a rental car.

And thank you Boston for providing more birding opportunities for my big year! Today I set out for two quick trips north of the city - to Revere for the summering Manx Shearwaters, and to Plum Island for my last sparrow of the year - Saltmarsh Sparrow.

Revere Beach has seen better days - almost all of them in 1895. That was when it became the nation's first public beach. With a new dedicated railroad and boat service connecting it to Boston it drew holiday-makers from around the country. The Great Ocean Pier (long since gone) reached confidently into the bay and housed a dance pavilion and skating rink. Amusement rides and roller coasters plied their trades where luxury apartment buildings now tower over the beach. If there was anything close to the Jersey Shore in Boston - it was Revere Beach.

Revere Beach - located in Reveah, MA

Today, the long white sands are shared by runners, sun-bathers, bad accents, birds and the occasional birder. While searching for my target Manx Shearwaters I arrived at the roped-off section of the beach - home to the Piping Plovers. The roping is more for the humans than the birds, who seemed to take no notice - they were all over the beach. I saw adults, zipping around at full speed:

Piping Plovers - protected birds in Massachusetts

and then started seeing the irresistibly cute fuzzballs...

can you spot the baby bird?...

...here it is! Baby Piping Plover.

After enjoying these tiny balls of feathers, I turned my attention to the water. Manx Shearwaters have been spending the summers here since at least 2008. For birds normally seen well out to sea, this small colony - presumably nesting on the one of the rocky islands off the coast of Boston - can often be seen sitting on the water - a rare treat from land. This year, they didn't disappoint. I had 8 birds just offshore, bobbing on the gentle tide.

Manx Shearwater - one of 8 just offshore.

This is only my second Shearwater of the year - after Short-tailed in Alaska! Note to self - must go on a pelagic trip soon!

An hour's drive north is Plum Island, one of my favorite birding spots in MA. It's a long, thin island, one side facing the Parker River, the other the Atlantic. The extensive areas of saltmarsh attract some great marsh birds - including my target bird of the day - the appropriately-named Saltmarsh Sparrow.

As I arrive at the Maintenance Buildings I can tell it's summer. Barn Swallows are on the nest...

and a young male Purple Finch is experimenting with its new wings...

Then I start noticing two sparrows flying around the Spartina marsh grasses. Saltmarsh Sparrows!

Saltmarsh Sparrow. 

Notice the much stronger streaking on the breast compared to 

last week's Nelson's Sparrow. And the rear supercilium is less clean.

I'm almost half way through the year. I've checked off all the regular sparrows and warblers, and I'm starting to run out of birds! The next month will (hopefully) be big for seabirds - I haven't taken an east coast pelagic trip yet! Oh - and I'm planning a trip to California (my first for the year) - where there's a whole bunch of endemic birds to catch up with.

But first, the northeast still has a few surprises left. Stay tuned…

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 647

NEW YEAR BIRDS (2): Manx Shearwater, Saltmarsh Sparrow

THE CITY OF BROTHERLY SHOVE...

I stared in disbelief as my car was towed away. Undriveable, and from one side, unrecognizable. I would be abandoning it here (Philadelphia) for a month. It wasn't coming home with me. This was my first car here in the US, and it was also my first car accident.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First, I need to backtrack from Philly, further south. To North Carolina and back to the birds. After the success with the Swainson's Warbler in the Great Dismal Swamp we stuck around for the weekend. We crossed the border into North Carolina toward Howell Woods. I'd asked for help a couple months back - a plea for Kentucky and Swainson's Warbler locations. Howell Woods was a popular suggestion for both. I'd be happy to see more Swainson's and I'd only heard, but not seen, Kentucky this year (in Wisconsin.)

Howell Woods is in east central North (!) Carolina, on a street called "Devil's Racetrack." (And no, we didn't encounter any speeding demons.) It's a large swampy woodland:

criss-crossed with boardwalks...

or not...

Fail.

As everywhere else down here, we heard Yellow-billed Cuckoos immediately and frequently. And like all the other Yellow-billed Cuckoos this week-end, they stayed out of sight, sensibly hiding in the shadows, away from the fierce sun. 

We were heading toward the Outer Slough Trail. I'd come to appreciate the different pronunciations of slough in the Pribilofs - realizing that Americans say "slew" whereas with my English upbringing I'd have said "sloff." Simple, until I remembered the Brits also had another pronunciation - "slau" for a  (vile!) place called Slough. Maybe a better pronunciation would be "Swainson-Kentucky Trail" - for within 5 minutes on the trail we had views of both. Brief, and too quick for photos, but close enough to admire the sideburns of the Kentucky.

We punctuated our trip home with a tour of Monticello, Jefferson's Virginia home. Although the highlight has to be the well-known architecture of the house and the beautiful setting, we were really impressed with the vegetable gardens…

Jefferson's Vegetable Gardens at Monticello. 

$24 for humans. Free for Chipping Sparrows.

And then the evening in DC. Very timely as we were almost done with the audiobook for Dan Brown's book, "The Lost Symbol." I'm not a fan of Dan Brown - too much plot, too little character development, not enough birds - but it's ideal for driving: the constantly moving (and ridiculous) plot keeps you from falling asleep. They should put that on the audiobook cover - "Listening to Dan Brown while driving is preferable to falling asleep while driving!"

We didn't find the Pyramid or the Staircase to the Ancient Mysteries. 

We did find some tourists and drunk Washingtonians though.

On our last morning we stopped at Susquehanna State Park in Maryland for Cerulean Warbler - a bird I'd heard in Wisconsin earlier in the month but not seen. We arrived at the Picnic Area and immediately heard one calling. We spent about an hour there enjoying great views of the constantly-moving bird. We could see the delicate black necklace, and the sky-blue upper parts after which the bird is named. It was ferrying caterpillars - from a caterpillar-producing tree to a caterpillar-eating Cerulean nest. It's a beautiful spot - a high tree canopy bordering the fast-moving Susquehanna River. Birds seem to like it too - we had Indigo Bunting, more Yellow-billed Cuckoos, Great-crested and Acadian Flycatchers. After finally getting looks at the Cerulean I've now seen all the regular breeding warblers of the US this year (about 52 species.)

It was after breakfast in Philly that the trip came to a crashing end. Seconds after stopping at a red light near the Liberty Bell, we heard the crunching and felt the impact of a large truck hit the back of my car. 

We were ok, but shaken up. After dealing with the police, insurance company, other driver, we said goodbye to the car - due for a month's worth of repairs and rebuilding in Philly, and got a rental car for the long drive back home to Boston. We were lucky not to be injured. We'd seen - actually seen - Swainson's Warbler, as well as lots of other avian goodies - Prothonatory, Kentucky, Cerulean Warblers, visited Monticello and DC. My car wasn't coming with us, but Dan Brown was. Hopefully the Angels and Demons would keep us awake...

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 645

NEW YEAR BIRDS (0)

OOH, OOH, I STEPPED IN POO...

The Great Dismal Swamp is clearly in need of some PR. How about some renaming - how about the Awesomely Cool Water Feature? or the Suffolk Lakeside Retreat? Either way, you can blame (or thank - since I saw no other humans on two visits this weekend) William Byrd II. He was responsible for mapping the swamp in 1728 while establishing the border between Virginia and North Carolina that runs through it, and for subsequently naming it. Clearly, the man wasn't a fan.

The swamp is around 50,000 acres with a large circular lake (Lake Drummond) at its center. It's one of the biggest and wildest areas of the Eastern US. And it used to be much bigger and much wilder (and probably to Byrd, much more dismal) - around 1 million acres - before intensive logging and drainage almost destroyed it. Signs posted around the swamp remind visitors of its checkered past. Many of the ditches - dry, logging roads that run through the swamp - were built with slave labor. Later, its seclusion attracted runaway slaves that lived here in maroon societies, achieving some kind of freedom.

I'm guessing that William Byrd wasn't a birder. Otherwise, he'd have swooned over the Swainson's Warbler - the largest concentration of which today is probably found in this very swamp. A highly secretive warbler that likes dense inaccessible swamps and thick ground cover - i.e. places that are hard to get to, and hard to see into! The birds are often to be found on the ground - wiggling their way through leaf litter looking for tasty morsels. This skulker is the last of the breeding warblers for my Big Year. Having missed it during migration, I found myself walking out into the Virginia swamp late on a summer afternoon - hoping to at least hear their distinctive song, and maybe, just maybe, to catch a glimpse. 

The Great Dismal Swamp is a beautiful place…

The only thing really dismal about the swamp these days is the 600 mile drive from Boston (yeah - it seemed like a good idea at the time!) Gerri was along for the ride ("the dismal swamp is a vacation destination?"). Soon after arriving we started hearing Prothonatory Warblers - and were dazzled by their brilliant yellow plumage and steel blue wings:

About half a mile down Jericho Ditch, we suddenly heard it. "ooh, ooh, I stepped in poo" - the easily memorable song of the Swainson's Warbler (alternatively, and more politely, transliterated as, "whee, whee whip-poor-will".) And then we heard a second bird! For the next hour, we peered into the dense swampy understory hoping to catch a glimpse. But no luck. It was tantalizing - they were so close, they were continually singing, but they were so well hidden. 

As it was getting dark, a deer emerged from the swamp onto the ditch, probably wondering what the hell we were doing. Didn't we know that Virginia Beach was only an hour away??

I was very happy to add Swainson's to my heard list, but really wanted to see one. We'd been so close! So we planned on a return visit the next morning. We stayed in nearby Suffolk, where I was happy to see that Virginians are still pondering important philosophical questions…

The next morning the swamp was alive with birdsong - Prairie Warbler, Northern Parula, Yellow-billed Cuckoo, Great Crested Flycatcher. And the two Swainson's Warblers. We waited patiently again, almost burning holes into the swampy undergrowth with our focussed attention. But no luck. They'd beaten us again! We gave up, and drove somewhat dejectedly out of the swamp along Jericho Lane. 

I was pulling up the map for Chapel Hill, our destination for the night, when I heard out the window that someone had just stepped in poo. We slammed on the brakes, reversed back, and jumped out. "Ooh, ooh, I stepped in poo." Swainson's! - and the swamp on this lane was much more open. Interesting! We waited. And finally - we saw it. A Swainson's Warbler flew back and forth between eye-level branches, seemingly excited by its new visitors. It even hung around long enough for a quick digiscoped pic…

What a great bird! And such a strong personality. Despite the ostensibly nondescript coloring - brown upperparts, gray-white belly, rich brown cap - it's a stunning bird, all the more so after the long and frustrating chase. Nothing dismal about this bird! And never has stepping in poo sounded more fun…

+ + + 

BIG YEAR LIST: 645

NEW YEAR BIRDS (1): Swainson's Warbler

BICKNELL'S AND NELSON'S WITH KETCHUP AND MUSTARD

I'm back home now, and realizing that home is a pretty good place for a Big Year base. There always seem to be good birds to go for within a reasonable drive from Boston (note: my interpretation of "reasonable" has become rather *un*reasonable as of late.) And now is no exception. Gerri and I headed up north today on a search for Bicknell's Thrush and Nelson's Sparrow.

There are essentially two great spots for Bicknell's Thrush. One of them is called the Cap's Ridge Trail which has the highest trail head in the New Hampshire White Mountains. It's a steep 2.5 mile walk up Mount Jefferson, threading its way across stunning ridges and spectacular scenery. It's one of the most amazing hikes in New England. The other is a $15, 7 minute cable car ride up Mount Cannon, also in New Hampshire, popular with muggles, and noisy school kids. The Mount Cannon option is essentially for the pathetic, loser, lazy-ass birder.

We arrived at Mount Cannon in time for the first cable car. There are two - one at each end. They're yellow and red, and the tour giudes (yes, there's a guide in the cable car to help "explain" the mountain you're going up) call them Mustard and Ketchup...

Mustard and Ketchup - New Hampshire humor.

Bicknell's Thrush is found in stunted (Krummholz) conifer forests above 3,000 feet. Which looks like this:

Where the Bicknell's live: Krummholz pine above 3,000 ft in northern New Hampshire.

It's probably our most secretive thrush, and is more often heard than seen. And it's not common - the small population in the Northeast was split from the more abundant, northwestern Gray-cheeked Thrush. The main difference between the two is habitat preference and song. Oh - and their sex lives! Bicknell's practice polygynandry in which the female mates with more than one male - and then she keeps all those males around to help around the nest. Sweet!

It wasn't long after climbing out of Ketchup that we started hearing the characteristic nasal call - "vee-ah" of the Bicknell's. Then a few started singing - a beautiful, raspy phrase that slurs upwards at the end. We found a pair of that were duetting together - alternatively singing. And finally one came out of the krummholz to investigate us. We got quick, but great looks - enough to see the gray face, delicately spotted belly and reddish brown upperparts. Very cute bird!

We also had a small family of Blackpoll Warblers up on the summit, including this male singing atop one of the confiers…

Blackpoll Warbler on Mount Cannon

Then we started hearing large numbers of juvenile Homo sapiens. In environments like this, they can be particularly loud and annoying. Definitely not as skulking as the Bicknell's. We took the next tram down.

Our next stop was a quick one - to see the recently-reported Black-backed Woodpecker nest, only 6 miles from Mount Cannon. We arrived to find one adult flying away from the nest tree and the sound of baby woodpeckers begging for food. Ten minutes later and the adult (a male - with a golden-crown) was back with a caterpillar. We watched as a hungry chick stuck its bill out of the hole and accepted the morsel of food. Here's the adult at the site…

Black-backed Woodpecker (male) at the nest hole. 

(Actually my second this year, after finding one in Ottawa in the snow.)

We stopped for lunch in the busy and touristy town of North Conway. There had been recent reports of bears in the area. Despite searching hard with my super bear-spotting binoculars (which very handily - for packing purposes - are also my super bird-spotting binoculars too) I couldn't find any bears…

"I heard there were bears here. But I don't see any."

Our final stop was Scarborough Marsh in Maine. This place is famous (among birders that is) as a nesting site for Nelson's Sparrow. I love sparrows. I love the identification challenges for such a large group of birds that are so subtly different. And Nelson's is even more fun for sparrow nerds as there are distinct subspecies. The majority of the birds (nelsoni) live in wet marshes and fields of the Mid-west. We have a small maritime population - subvirgatus - in salt-marshes of coastal Maine and Canada. These birds are paler than their mid-west counterparts and with longer bills. 

Nelson's has a distinctive, insect-like call - "p-tssssshh-uk". We started hearing it about 3/4 mile into the marsh. Then we started seeing birds peeking out of the short Spartina marsh grass. Here's the bird:

Nelson's Sparrow. Notice the orange face with clean supercilium (eyebrow). 

(The similar Saltmarsh Sparrow has streaks in its supercilium.)

The Atlantic subspecies of Nelson's is subvirgatus. 

The birds are pale with indistinct streaking on the breast and sides.

And with that, I'm one bird away from completing the sparrow set (all 33 of them.) And if it were not for the rain, we'd have stopped at Plum Island on the way back for the last one: Saltmarsh Sparrow. But we'll have to save that for another day...

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BIG YEAR LIST: 644

NEW YEAR BIRDS (2): Bicknell's Thrush, Nelson's Sparrow.

HOME!

Wow. It's been a long time (4 weeks and 18 flights!) since I've held a boarding pass that has the letter BOS as the destination. It's about time...